On waxing poetic

Once heard, a sound lives forever within the soul of a man, quietly stirring. Produced by anything, felt through any part of the body, the perception of sound is a bipolar bastard child of the human perception. While lauded greatly when it’s chopped, divided, castrated, and filed in metronomic precision, it goes greatly unperceived in its raw and pure form. This grandeur is not so much one associated with music but with identity. In sound, the intangible and the ephemeral become something physical: a reverberation that physically alters space and time. Vibrations are not respected because they cannot be tamed. Whether it be the clatter of silverware dancing across the porous walls of an old-age home or the rustling of heather in the empty air of the cold Sierra Nevadas, sound carries an infinite potential whose beauty lies in its unmasterable nature. Yes, while some may become adept at banging out sonatas or strumming tribal breakbeats, the mastery of sculpting something permanent out of that humming quicksilver is not something that the adept few ask for. Flowers, the material as ephemeral, rejoice in their springtime dances. Sound, which blossoms out from nothing more than the void, is the God of the ephemeral. Enough of that poetic nonsense. Want to get down with the WRCT Sound? Check out the following: Boards of Canada: Music Has the Right to Childre — Experience the beauty of electronic music. Extremely approachable and low-key in its magnificence. Shoes: Eccentric Breaks and Beat — Flawlessly arranged pastiche of esoteric soul and funk. Flaming Lips, Stardeath & White Dwarfs: Dark Side of The Moon (ft. Henry Rollins and Peaches — A sonic blow-out. Dark Side of the Moon for a digital generation. -Juan Fernandez